


My Baby Shot Me Down

by Megalohdon



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Crazy, Mental Breakdown, Multiple Personalities, Murder, Other, Psychological Drama, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-25
Updated: 2012-03-25
Packaged: 2017-11-02 12:07:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/368813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Megalohdon/pseuds/Megalohdon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He tugged you out of your chair, pulling you into his arms and held you close. His chest was cool and hard but you didn’t care. It was comforting, even if it was painful to accept he was probably doing this for obligatory reasons. You didn’t say anything as your tears fell to his metal chest, rolling over the surface and dropping to the floor. He wasn’t about to sweep you off your feet and carry you off to your bath, no, but he did keep you pressed to his side as he led you towards the bathroom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Baby Shot Me Down

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Jake has become Lord English, meaning there is implied graphic violence and mentioning of blood. Character death as well. Brobot = Otto = Manservant/Butler.

It was a mess, all of it. The whole situation was less than appreciated by you, hand pressed to the cool glass of your Observatory’s window as the rain clouded your view. You did this, or, more so, the monster inside you did. You didn’t hold him back; the Lord. You let him free and broke the chains, granting him free reign over your mind.

You had made sure to make it a prison block in there, a place only the beasts of hell could live and thrive without needing to be free. But he did; he got past your barriers you set up and tore your world down. Trembling legs, shaky breath. Things were becoming far too real for your liking.

A silent presence stepped into the room behind you, not a word spoken as you took his silence into consideration, “Otto, run me a bath… And pour me a glass of Chardonnay if you would.” You just assumed he nodded as he left. You assumed there wasn’t an awkward tension between you and your servebot at this moment as you begin to loose your ability to stand, stumbling backwards into your seat.You pinch the bridge of your nose, harder than you probably should, before you rest your hand over your eyes. No need to allow Otto to see you like this, the man in charge very well near tears as his body trembled, heart ached. He regretted. No, surely Otto would be better off not seeing you in this state. No need for him to worry, even if your relationship was currently a bit strained. 

Time had gotten out of hand, something you weren’t well paying attention to at all. Your mind had gone blank as you were given a few moments to mull things over. You hadn’t even noticed the silent sobbing that had ensued. You hadn’t noticed your whole body was shaking, near convulsing as you lost control of yourself.

How could you let this happen?

You had ended up neglecting your tears for silencing your thoughts, not taking to mind your cries were to only grow louder. You hadn’t noticed the bot had returned in a haste to check on you as soon as you allowed your self to break. That’s a good way to put it, what you were in this current state of hell: broken.

He tugged you out of your chair, pulling you into his arms and held you close. His chest was cool and hard but you didn’t care. It was comforting, even if it was painful to accept he was probably doing this for obligatory reasons. You didn’t say anything as your tears fell to his metal chest, rolling over the surface and dropping to the floor. He wasn’t about to sweep you off your feet and carry you off to your bath, no, but he did keep you pressed to his side as he led you towards the bathroom.

All you managed to do was press your hands to the sink and lean against the fixture, head hung low as your sobs quieted (though tears had yet ceased). You had no energy or desire to undress, more tempted to step into your bath fully clothed, but Otto wouldn’t have that.

He tugged off the jacket for your suit first, folding it neatly before setting it atop the laundry basket, then unbuttoning your shirt and sliding it from your torso. You don’t shrug him off like you normally would. You don’t care he’s being gentle when you know he doesn’t want to. You don’t care.

He manages to turn you around, you keeping your hands against the sink behind you as your head continued to hang low. No dignity was left in your body it seemed, allowing a robot to strip you of your pants, socks and shoes before hesitating with your underwear. You don’t care, and he knows it. You’re numbed up at this point, nothing will phase you now.

So he reluctantly continues, rolling the last clothing item off your hips and dropped them to the floor, allowing you to step out of them before placing them with the rest of your clothes. You push forward and let the sink go, heading towards the bathtub before looking down into the water.

Oh god, the blood. It’s spattered on your face. You hadn’t forgotten, but it wasn’t something you desired to see. You bit hard on your bottom lip before stepping into the tub, water crashing against the sides of the porcelain was tub. You ignored the fact that the water was slowly becoming tinted as the dried red on your hands washed free, a disgusting color in the water that made your stomach turn uncomfortably.

Otto hadn’t left yet, you assumed because it was his duty to make sure you didn’t kill yourself in his absence. Not that it wasn’t a bad idea, but you didn’t see the point. It wouldn’t solve anything, it wouldn’t fix your mistakes, rewrite the past. It would open new wounds for everyone you couldn’t bear to be responsible for.

You shifted on your side, curled up under the water as your eyes closed and head laid against the tub’s side. It was cool, and you liked that. Something you could feel past that numbed exterior you had put on. Something that could be considered the calm after the storm.

“Otto, please do make haste and burn that suit. I don’t want to know of it’s existence and perhaps it would be best if it didn’t at all. Of course I can see you have other obligations, so on your own time would do fine. Just make sure it happens soon. I will be needing my pajamas, however, so if you could fetch those for me it would be greatly appreciated.”

Your voice was soft, yet cold with a pitted hatred towards yourself as you spoke. It was spooky to hear your own voice with such a tone to it. Haunting, but there was no altering that. A ghost that would be with you for a good while you thought.

“Very well, sir. Any preference for your apparel this evening?”

“Not in the slightest.”

“Alright. I shall return.” He slunk off and you were alone, thoughts hanging above you, tied to metaphorical strings like puppets, dancing around, terrifying you as you shook your head “no”. Of course they didn’t stop, but you felt like the denial might trick yourself to understand that they were there to trip you up.

You tossed back over, facing the ceiling now with hazed eyes. You were tired, your face tear stained, and body aching. Your head throbbed as memories tramped across your mind’s eye constantly. Your hands took to your hair, gripping tightly as the heels pressed into your eyes in hope the images would go away. They never did.

With a slight shift of your hips you dunked your head under, eyes closed and breath held as you took advantage of the peace that rested there. You knew you could find the simple serenity you craved under the warmth of the water, that liquid blanket that soothed your mind as you tried to forget the memories that stained your thoughts.

But you couldn’t.

You couldn’t shake the image of the body lifeless and cold beneath you, bloodied with fear struck in his eyes. You couldn’t forget the noise you make when you came to and saw what you had done. You couldn’t help but hate yourself knowing that you pressed that gun to his forehead with a smirk that ended civilizations written across your lips like it was nothing. Knowing remorse wasn’t in your vocabulary as your eyes burned with blood lust, voice tinted with a sadistic rage as you told him, like you did everyone, to “Bow to his Lord”. 

Knowing you loved that man and you personally put that bullet through his skull. That that honey blonde hair was stained red and his face was hardly recognizable. Those ember eyes burned their last fire, eyes wide open in fear as you took it upon yourself to end him.

End a life that had just begun, end a life that had just merged with yours. End a life of an innocent man as you felt no guilt for your actions until you were right in the head.

The fact that this was a you you couldn’t control hurt the worse, that this was a fate many people would meet with you if they weren’t careful. He had trusted you, loved you, and honestly you had reciprocated those feelings and tore his heart out with that bullet through his head. You were a monster, and you had no say in the matter.

Otto had taken it upon himself to dig a nice plot for him up to bury him in, you feeling it was best to prepare a few words to say after building a makeshift coffin for the prince. A Prince of Heart shot dead by his Page, his only Hope. You gathered his favorite flower (which took a bit of pestering on your behalf to discover) and made a bouquet, placed in his folded hands after you dressed him in your finest. Otto had cleaned him up, made him presentable before you decided then was the moment for the resting of a life lost.

You both lowered the casket into the ground, Otto saying he would fill in the plot for you as you gathered yourself and read off an homage to the man you had wronged. You thought your tears were the only thing coming down, but just like one of your movies the rain fell too. Ironically fitting, but painful all the same. 

And here you were, thrashing quickly out of the water and crawling onto the cold tile, sobbing again because your mind couldn’t rest. Your hand was curled into a fist and pounded against the floor, knuckles sliced open from the grout and bleeding against the white. Everything was a drastic contrast, and the red made your stomach lurch a bit, your body bringing yourself to the toilet as you became sick.

Otto was there in a flash, emotionless eyes flickering towards the small red droplets on the floor then to you, grabbing a towel and draping it across your back before cleaning up the blood. You shuddered, but dried yourself off, faintly giving any attention to the wet mop atop your head. He dressed you, you had no desire to do so anyways, and tended to your bloodied knuckles before scooping you up this time and charting you off to bed.

You believe you had to have passed out from the time it took to get from the bathroom to your room, only waking up as he was leaving you to sleep. You cleared your throat, glancing over your shoulder to meet his stare before demanding near silently, “Don’t go…”

You murdered his creator, near ruining any chance of survival he would have if you went ballistic unless you found some other robotic genius, but he stayed. He took a seated position in the bed beside you, eyes glowing faintly in the darkness as he stroked your still wet hair.

You were at peace for that moment, inner turmoil ceasing until you woke up again. The dawn of a new day was the start of a new pain and new recoil of memories you didn’t want to have.

But right now you had Otto. You lost Dirk, but you had what was left of him, and that was more comforting than anything else could be.


End file.
